Fred and George: When we became I
by Kimuthy99
Summary: George is devasted after Fred's death. He can't help it. He's going to seek revenge on the one person he blames. Please, I hope it's not as bad as it sounds. It's screaming READ ME. Was previously named "After We became I"
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize. I mean it nothing!**

I never thought I could forgive him, you know, harry potter. For months I blamed him for Fred's death. I just couldn't help it. I list my best friend, my twin, my better half. All my life he'd been with me. All my life we were attached at the hip, two peas in a pod, we completed each other. Then in a simple moment it all disappeared.

Fred's funeral was three months ago, exactly. Since then I sold the store, sulked in my bedroom, and drank. Whiskey, beer, wine. Whatever I could find. I was pathetic. To think that Harry Potter destroyed my life was too much. I mean this was the guy who gave us money to start "Weasley Wizard Wheezes". He was always the nicest boy. Ron's only real friend. Now, to think about what I planned to do. To take revenge on the Boy Who Lived, the boy who was like a brother to me. I need to do this now! Before my conscience takes over and makes me feel guilty that I'm going to kill him. I know it sounds so cruel. But it's justified. I swear its justified. He killed my brother. All this pent up rage needs to be dispersed.


	2. Chapter 2

I got my wand out of the closet for the first time in ages. I can't quite place it, but it feels strange, unnatural. But that's insane. I was causing trouble with magic since I was in diapers. This wand was a constant companion to me. I still remember the foggy day I went to Olivander's to get it. Fred and I were so excited. Between the thrill of going to Hogwarts and the idea if having a wand for our personal use, on whatever that could be, I was just about bursting with happiness. But, that was back before we new the famous Harry Potter, before we got involved with all this chaos. Back then we were just a poor, but happy family. We were together.

Now I have one thing on my mind, to make Potter pay for dragging us into the mess he stirred up. Why, of all people, did Harry Potter have to make friends with Ron? There were hundreds of people he could have met, but he just had to find Ron and become best friends with him when no one else would. I have to admit, without Harry Ron might have never found any friends. Then there was the money he gave us. Harry could have spent his Tri Wizard winnings on anything, but he gave it to us. It kills me to think that I want to brutally murder the young man that gave us so much.

But he killed my brother. I take another gulp of the whiskey I brought. I'm doing the right thing. I know I am. But why do I keep having these regrets? I force myself out of my thoughts and back into the real world. I check my watch. Three o'clock AM. I guess there's no time like the present for a confrontation.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry is sleeping, like most normal people at this time of the night. I could just kill him with the flick of a wand, but then I would never know if he even feels guilty about Fred's death. I decide instead to put a simple sleeping charm on him and set to work in fastening him to a chair in the corner. I release him from the spell and he awakes with a start.

"George," he gasps in utter disbelief, "What are you doing here?" He struggles slightly against his bonds. "What is this about?" He looks honestly terrified and confused. I have a second of remorse. He probably doesn't know what he did to me. I mean mum probably never told him about my drinking and sulking in my room. I can't blame him for not knowing. But now I can get all the facts. I could finally know if this act will be justified. I can figure out if the hatred and guilt that is eating me up is tearing him up too. He could blame me for so many things. If he had never met us, he could have had been friends with more powerful families. He might have had a completely different life if he had never met my family. A small whimper brings me back to the present. I'm a little grateful that he awoke me out of my darkened mind.

"Harry," I murmur, "All I want to do is talk." "What, about what?" His green eyes are clouded over with silent terror. His fear is different though. When he was confronted by Voldemort he had that obvious terror. He was an enemy of the most feared wizard of all time. But now, the look in his eyes shows more than simple terror of certain death. It shows betrayal. He thinks I betrayed him, by coming into his house and tying him to a chair. How can he think that?

"Is this about Fred?" He asks quietly. I nod back to him. "I'm really sorry that he was killed, but it was nobody's fault but the one who cast the spell. It's not yours, nor mine. Really, George, you have to accept that the past is past. You need to move on with your life." I stare at him for a few moments in disbelief. He can't possibly understand.

"Harry, you don't get it. I can't move on. When Fred died, something in me went with it. The life I had, the plans for the future, the places I was going: They're gone now, just because we met you." I felt the malice in my voice, the rising anger and hatred boiling to the brim of my mind. I took a long swig of whiskey before I brought out my knife. The screaming still echoing in my ears.


	4. Chapter 4

Ginny had found us out and started screaming when she saw the glint of my silver blade. She quickly tied me up with magic and worked on unbundling Harry. My anger was still tearing my mind apart. I tried to escape from my bonds but to no avail. The last thing I remember is Ginny whispering a spell in my ear.

A week later...

I wake up, try to stretch, but I can't move. My arms and legs have been magically bound around me. As I look around me, I notice a sign in the hallway stating that I am in Saint Mongo's Insane Ward. How nice! I'll probably be stuck here forever.

Mum opens up the door. I can tell she's happy that I'm awake, but there is still so much despair in her eyes. Her family is falling apart. I just made matters worse.

"So George," she starts, "How are you feeling?"

"Fine I guess. Mum why am I here?" I answer back quietly, even though I know exactly why I'm here. "Am I a criminal now, you know for attempting to kill someone?"

"Oh sweetie," she cooed, "No you aren't, Harry dear isn't pressing any charges, but he does want to speak to you sometime."

That would be Harry. Even when I tried to kill him he doesn't press charges against me. He really should. Anyone else in the world would have, except my family maybe. But even some of them would, since I obviously deserve to be sent to Azkaban.

As mum leaves a healer walks in, "Okay Mr. Weasley, it's great to see that you're awake. We had to use a lot of potions to relax your body. You should be able to leave in a few weeks if you behave. Oh, and don't forget about counseling sessions. While your here the counselor will come here to your room twice a week. Once he has cleared you to go home, you will have to visit us back here, once a week. Okay?"

"Fine," I say, "when can I accept visitors?"

"People have been lining up to see you, Mr. Weasley. You can start seeing people who aren't in your immediate family after one of the head healers clears you. They'll be checking up in a few hours. Your brothers are in the hallway, waiting for me to leave. I guess I'll let them in now." The bubbly healer basically skipped out of the room. She's probably happy to be rid of me. I am a little depressing to be around.

The first person to come into my room was Dad. I could tell that he was disappointed in me for even thinking about trying to hurt Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, The Famous Mr. Potter. Every part of my mind, spirit, and body tells me that I shouldn't even try for revenge on him. He's not the one. Dad is giving me some words of encouragement, but I can't process his voice. I'm trapped in my own mind with no way to vent the ever raging anger in my head.

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a similar way. My siblings and healers come and go, asking if I'm okay, why I attempted murder and what was I thinking. What am I thinking? Am I finally losing my remaining sanity? The questions swirl around me for most of the next days. Until, a few days later, Ginny comes into my room, crying. I realize that she hadn't come to visit me yet, as my other family members had. But there's something else wrong with her too. Everyone else who had come to see me had that look in their eye. It was like a mix between pity and disappointment. Not Ginny. She had no pity, disappointment, anger, or anything in her eyes. They held no emotion. Honestly it would have been much better if she would have showed anger or hatred toward me. I hate seeing her like this. For a few minutes she just stared at me with that dead look on her face.

But she finally spoke, "George, I respected you, loved you, even admired you. We all did. But this, You know this changes everything. You're lucky Harry even is going to try to forgive you. You don't know what you did to him. He's a nervous wreck, waiting to see you. All we want is answers, reasons, anything George. When you're ready to give them to us, please, please... We can help you, George." Then she left without a word. She didn't wait for me to explain myself. She knew I couldn't tell her. Not yet. Maybe not ever. This is between me and Harry Potter.

* * *

That night I didn't sleep well. My dreams tossed and turned in my mind. Really, it wasn't "dreams". It was more like "dream." It would start out with a happy memory of when Fred and I were young, like tossing gnomes out the garden. Then it would skip ahead a few years, to when we started going to Hogwarts. Then it skipped to when we started testing our jokes and gags. Finally, it would play each heart wrenching moment of the final battle at Hogwarts. Fred's face would flash before my eyes, and then I'd wake up screaming or gasping for air. The healers tried to calm me down with potions and spells, but nothing could cure my restless mind. Every time the dream would play in my mind, the more I'd remember, and the more guilt I would feel. I simply wait for the morning to arrive.


	5. Chapter 5

When visiting hours began, I heard a knock on the door. There he was, Harry Potter.

"May I come in?" he asked in a quite but assertive voice.

I nod. What else was I going to do. We would have to talk eventually. He pulls a chair to the side of my bed.

"You know. I'm not going to be like everyone else, George. I'm not going to ask you why you tried to kill me. I mean. It seems like a silly question. I know why. You thought I was responsible for Fred's death," he stated confidently.

"Yes," I start, my voice a little raspy from not using it, "yeah, I really did blame you for Fred's death. I mean I still do. But now, it's not hatred over Fred's death. It's pain. I don't hate you, Harry. There's just so much pain and depression. I don't know where to turn anymore."

Harry nods, like he understands. But deep down, I know he has no idea what I am going through.

When He starts speaking again, it's like he's reading my mind, "I know I can't understand the loss of Fred, but I can understand the pain and depression. I felt that everyday before the fall of Voldemort. Every time someone around me got hurt because of me, I felt it. I know that pain never goes away. But you can cope with it. For your family's sake, I hope you do."

* * *

Our conversation left me a lot to think about. Is Harry really to blame for Fred's death? No, he's not. But maybe it's my fault. I could have stopped it. I know I could have. But I was distracted. A new rage filled me. It wasn't really rage, more like the need for self disapline.

A nurse walks in. "Okay, Mr. Weasley, we're going to release you now. Healers said you are in a normal mental state."

What a relief! I can finally go home. I know that I can cope with this better there than I can here. I must avenge Fred. Now I know there is only one person responsible: me.

* * *

At home, things actually go better than before. Now mum and dad are just happy that I'm out and about. If only they knew how much it kills me to be around all of them. Even though things are much better than they were, there is still all kinds of problems. Ron can't even talk to me. He talks to everyone except me. Ginny won't even stay in the same room with me. There's nothing ceremonious about it. If I enter a room, she leaves it. I really don't blame her. I know I deserve it. I deserve all of it.

After breakfast one day, which I now eat at the table with most of my family, I was in my bedroom taking my dirty laundry to my mum so she can magically clean them, I find my knife in a pants pocket.

I stare at it a moment. Simply admiring its beauty. I have always liked muggle objects. Not using magic for some things feels better, like writing letters, drawing, or even cooking sometimes. I guess that's why I used the knife on Harry instead of my wand. I guess that's why I have to do this like this.

I pick the knife up in my right hand. I can feel the emotion running through my fingers to the silver blade in my hand. I know I could just kill myself with a wand, but that would be a release, not a punishment. I slit a small cut into my wrist, and another and another, until you can read the words "My Fault" on my arm. I can feel the pain so strongly that it makes me forget about my mental turmoil. I bandage it and go down to eat. Nobody asks what happened to my arm, but it doesn't bother me. Little did I know my mum had called Saint Mongo's to talk to my counselor.

That night the dreams overwhelmed me. They didn't cause for screaming and gasping when I awoke, but for deep guilt to consume me while I was awake. I dreamed that I was walking in a beautiful garden with Fred. He seemed perfectly fine, no wounds, mental or physical. We were talking about our lives. Stuff like if we were happy, successful, useful and the sort. Finally Fred started talking about after his death.

"George," he asked, "what are you doing with your life now? I mean all I see is you trying to blame people for my death, innocent people. It's not your fault or Harry's fault. Its nobody's fault, except the Death Eater who killed me. So if you want to seek revenge on someone, go get the Death Eater who killed me."


	6. Chapter 6

I awoke with a start. I tried to remember my dream. Yes, I was talking to Fred. He said that if I want to avenge him I should go after the Death Eater that killed him. The dream is still a little hazy, but I think that's what Fred told me to do. Wait! Fred died after a wall fell on him. Does that mean that I have to find the Death Eater that caused the wall to fall? I'm so confused. Maybe I should just give up. My life isn't worth it anymore. Then the other side of my mind screams "No" at me. Fred would want me to go on with my life and seek forgiveness from those around me. Wouldn't he? I guess I just don't know anymore. Maybe I really am losing my mind.

I break myself out of my thoughts and quickly get dressed. I'm not hungry so I walk right out of the house without any breakfast. Mum doesn't care anyway. I walk the short distance to the patch of trees where we used to play Quittich when we were little. When did everything get so complicated? Why can't everything go back to how it was?

As I turn to go back to the house I notice a blond witch about my age peaking out from behind a bush. I don't recognize her, but somehow she seems to know exactly who I am.

"Hey, there George" she said in a cheery voice. Again she seemed vaguely familiar. "Hey, I heard about that run of yours with Potter. Want to talk to me about it?"

"Who in the bloody hell are you even?" I answer back.

"Who do you think?" She answers coolly. "I'm the one and only Sabrina Malfoy. Jack of all trades, master of none. I can help you George. I try not to associate myself with the rest of my family if that helps at all."

I contemplated telling her about my dream but decided against it. "Why do you care about me and how did you even know I live here?" I said instead.

"Ok buddy boy. One question at a time please. I care about you because... Well because, I think you deserve a break for once. And I know you live here because Hermione told me."

"You know Hermione Granger?" I ask her.

"Yeah," She answers. "I'm her best friend. Like I said, I'm not like the rest of my family. I honestly don't hold prejudices against her. Or you for that matter."

We talk for hours. She tells stories of when she was a kid and would beat the crap out of Draco and any other cousins who even thought of questioning her authority. I talked about the adventures with my brothers when we were kids and all the fun times I had with Fred. I never mentioned the dream. I didn't want to break the mood. She seemed to know Fred so well, even though that seemed impossible, that she knew that he would never want me to seek revenge for him. I knew if I told her, she'd think I'm going crazy. When mum called me in for supper, she decided to leave and told me not to tell anyone that she had been here. I agreed. Neither of us wanted any more trouble between are families.

* * *

That night I had the first peaceful dream in months. It took place when Fred and I were kids. We had been playing in the garden all day, tossing gnomes away. Dad came home from work and after supper he read us a story as we went to bed. One of my fondest memories were these days, when everything was so simple. I truly miss them.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning was a living hell for me. I had to go to a stupid counseling session with a young witch who had no idea what she was doing and talked about herself most of the time instead of listening to my problems, not that I would have told her about them anyway. I couldn't stop thinking about Sabrina. She was the only one who understood me.

After the "counseling" session, Mum made me clean out mine and Fred's room. She decided that it was time to put away his things. I just couldn't do it. For me, putting away his few possessions would be that final step to forgiveness and healing, butI wasn't there yet. Really I just sat on his bed, holding in my hands his old sweater, which Mum had made him two Christmases ago and drinking some more whiskey, with tears in my eyes and hate in my chest.

"George Weasley," she had finally come up to check on my progress. "You have accomplished absolutely nothing today. Do you hear me? Drunk, fat, and stupid is no way for you to go through life. If you want to mope get out of my house."

Why couldn't she understand? I was trying to cope. I was trying to heal. Really I was trying my hardest, but still that wasn't good enough for her, for anyone.

I stormed out of the house, slamming doors, and breaking glass, leaving a trail of destruction behind me. If they wanted me gone, I guess I'll leave then. I traveled to Diagon Alley and slept in an inn that I paid for with the money Fred and I got from our shop sales. Even giving up the money that had once been Fred's hurt.

I stayed there for weeks, until I saw Sabrina walk into a restaurant across the street. I followed her in and sat down at a table with her.

"Oh, hey George," she said in her usually bubbly voice, "Long time no see. What's up with you?"

Then and there, at that table, in a busy restaurant, I spilled my heart out. I told her about my alcoholism, my dreams, everything. For hours she sat there and listened as I cried like a little school girl. When I finally told her everything, I was exhausted, both emotionally, and physically. She paid the tab and told me that I couldn't stay at that dingy in one more night and led me to her apartment.

I awoke to the smell of bacon and the sound of light singing. For a second I thought I was back at home in my room with Mum making breakfast. It took me a few minutes to realize that I was in Sabrina's apartment. The memories of last night came back to me in a rush, but I didn't have much time to think as Sabrina walked into my room.

"Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Sorry about the lame accommodations, but when I started running from my family I had to get a Muggle job, which by the way, was not easy. As it turns out, my expenses are high and my salary is low. Oh, and I washed your clothes this morning. They're on the dresser. I'll let you get dressed. Then you can come down and eat."

I was shocked. A girl I hardly knew had cooked, housed, and laundered me. Sabrina really was amazing! I ran into the kitchen, feeling so much better than I had in a long time. She was still humming as she dished out some bacon on my plate and then some for herself. Everything was perfect. In fact it seemed unreal. It was better than any other part of my life. It easily topped going to Hogwarts, spending time with Fred, even playing Quittich. I was truly happy for the first time in my life. Days went by just like this. I even got a Muggle job at a supermarket.

As it turns out, that job would be my downfall. One day, while I'm working as a cashier, I see Hermione Granger's mother. The only reason I recognized her at all was because Sabrina had a picture of her and Hermione on a tropical vacation in other living room. I prayed she wouldn't recognize me, but she had to use my checkout. I tried to be as distant as possible, but it didn't seem to work.

"Oh, my gosh," she said startled, "George Weasley, your mother is looking everywhere, to the ends of the earth for you. She thought you were dead, George. Do you hear me, dead? How could you do that to her, to your family, George? You know what, that's it. I'm going to call your mother and have her come directly my house and have her pick you up right now."

After I was dragged into Hermione's parents house, Mrs Granger called my mum, which as grim as the situation was, was a little humorous. While we waited for Mum to arrive Mrs Granger and I talked. This time much calmer.

"George," she murmured, her voice much sweeter and more motherly than it had been during her rant at the supermarket, "Where have you been all this time? You've been gone for nearly three months. Didn't you think about what would happen if you left like that. Your whole family was worried. They thought the lost you."

"I'm sorry," I whispered with tears in my eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to hurt them. I just had to get away for a while. You see, I met someone who could help me. She was the only thing keeping me grounded. Without her I don't know what I would have done. Since I left I have never been happier. Never in my entire life has someone lifted my spirits so easily. She housed me, fed me, gave me a job. You don't understand how hard it was for me after... After Fred died. I was broken, lost. But Sabrina saved me, found me, when even I couldn't."

"Sabrina Malfoy saved you? i don't know whether to give her a medal or smother her. She kept you safe all this time and healed you. But how could she? She knew what would happen to your family if you were gone. Believe it or not, George, you were the iron bar through the backbone of your family."

She was right, I couldn't believe it. For all this time I thought I was the cause of all the hatred and anger. But really, I was what stopped the hatred and anger from becoming overbearing. When I fell, the whole family fell. If hatred and chaos happened when I was broken, I didn't want to imagine what could happen if I left completely.


	8. Chapter 8

Mrs. Granger called my mum, which was still pretty funny, even in the grim situation. I couldn't help but chuckle as Mrs. Granger as she held the phone at arms length, listening to Mum's shouts, which stated that she would be apparating over in a few minutes to take me home. For the first time in a long time, I actually wanted to be home and see my family. For the first time since Fred's death, I actually wanted to be with my family, not sulk in self pity and hopelessness. I really wanted to go back to my normal life.

That night at dinner everyone stared at me, but I didn't mind too much. They had a right to stare at me. I left them for over two weeks. Now was a perfect time to start again. It was now or never.

I cleared my throat, breaking the unbearable silence. "Um...," I started, "I know that I have screwed up a lot of things lately and that I have neglected a lot of my responsibilities lately and have just plain been a pathetic little prat for the last few months. And... I'm sorry." I ran off to my room so that they could think about what I said. The surprise on their faces evident, so I let them think a little. Mum was the most shocked, mostly because she always considers all her kids little children still. She never realized that they ever grew up. Then was Ginny's face, filled with surprise at my sudden show of responsibility. All her life she was forced to live in the shadow of her older brothers, now she finally realized why.

* * *

Later that night, as I lay staring at the ceiling, I hear a soft knock on my door. "Hello," I say quietly, "Is anyone there?" Ginny steps into the room, "Oh, hey, George," she murmurs shyly. "Um... Can I talk with you a little?" I nod my head slowly, "Of course. What's on your mind?"

"I just want to say," she pauses, "George, I just want to say that I'm sorry. I blamed you for everything. When you tried to kill Harry... Well I thought it was all your fault. You know, that you were just feeling sorry for yourself all the time, and that you didn't want to take the responsibility to get over Fred's death."

"Ginny I was," I speak firmly, "I was too scared to take the responsibility that was mine. I didn't want to get over anything. All I wanted was to forget about it by getting rid of any reminders that Fred died and pretend nothing had happened. Now I know that I can't do that. I have to take responsibility and get on with my life. That's what Fred would want me to do anyway."

Ginny's eyes started tearing up, so I did the first thing my brotherly instincts told me to do. I hugged her. And she hugged back. For the first time, ever, I actually felt like I was being the big brother that she needed in her life. When we finished hugging, Ginny went back downstairs. I could tell that she was happier now than when I had been drinking. As she passed through the doorway, I whispered, "Anytime you want to talk. I'm here."

A while after Ginny left, Mum stepped into the room. She seemed a little guilty and awkward, but she had a purpose to her. "George," she said quietly, holding his hand and sitting next to him on the bed. "I need to tell you that I'm sorry too. I was too hard on you. All I wanted was to get this behind us and forgotten. I should have let you go at your own pace in recovery, instead of pushing you too far."

"Hey, it's okay, Mum. It's fine now. Everything will be fine."

Mum squeezed my hand lovingly and left, content that everything thing in her family would be fine. For her sake, I hoped it would be.

* * *

The next few weeks flew by. I took out most of Fred's stuff and either sold it or gave it Ron as hand-me-downs. He needed them too. Fairly soon he would be taller than me. I was just about finished putting Fred's things away, when I heard yet another knock on my door. As I turned to look I noticed Sabrina standing there.

"How did you even get in my house?" I asked incredulously. She was a Malfoy, part of the family that my entire family absolutely hated. Although her entire family hated my family too, so she must be an exception to the "hate all Malfoy's and everyone associated with them" rule.

"I walked in the front door," she stated with her usual bubbly voice. "Me and your dad are tight. Okay? He has to come to my neighborhood a lot for.. you know.. issues involving Muggle objects. Yeah, it's usually not a pretty sight. Once he had to deal with this cursed toilet that spurted sewage everywhere when someone entered the bathroom door. Fun times. Since I know a lot about Muggle objects and how to safely use them, when he takes off the curse I fix the actual object, or make a cover story as to why he needs to take it with him. Okay?"

"Okay," I answer. Well she sure has an interesting life that I really don't need to hear about anymore. "Um... just why are you here, exactly?"

"Oh," she answered like she had been waiting for me to ask that for ages, "I just wanted to check up on you to make sure all my hard work on getting you back on your feet was worth it. Oh, and one of my friends, I am not going to tell you who, but one of my friends bet me that you were back to.. you know.. old habits. I just had to prove her wrong. So here I am."

I laughed, the kind of laugh that milk shoots out of your nose. She was always so bubbly and happy, an instant pick-me-up. No wonder people were betting against me. She's just a little bit over optimistic.

"Well thanks, but I'm fine, really," I said as I picked up a box of old photos, which then broke and spilled onto the floor. Bloody Hell!

"Oh, I'll help you pick those up," Sabrina started stacking up the photos and putting them back in the box. "You know what you should do! You should make a scrap book of you and Fred. I did that for my dog after he died. Ok, not the best comparison, but you know what I mean. When you love someone, or something you should not want to forget about it, but remember all the awesomeness you spent with it. You know. I could help you if you wanted. I'm great at this kind of stuff. Well I mean I have had some misfortunes. I once super-glued Hermione's hand to a picture of her and her mother, but you know, we got it off eventually."

That actually sounded like a good idea. Don't forget them, but remember the good things. Well, at least it's worth a shot.

"Oh and one more thing, George," Sabrina said, a little more serious than her usual voice, but still not as serious as normal people's voices. "You really should talk to Harry. He's dying to... No Sabrina not that metaphor. He really wants to talk to you. Well, see you later, George." She stepped out the room, quietly humming some happy song she heard earlier that morning.

"Harry wants to talk to me, even after all this. Well it's worth a shot right?" I whisper to myself. Placing the box of photos on the shelf in the closet.

* * *

**Ok, please tell me what you think. Is Sabrina too crazy, too much, too Malfoyish? Haha that's not a word, but you know what I mean. Please review with anything you think needs work or anything at all. I can do random, but you know not too random. Thanks.**


	9. Chapter 9

I apparated to the small house of Harry Potter, lingering on the front step before knocking on the door. Should I really be doing this? Is he going to kick me out? I finally decide to knock on the door. Knock, Knock. No answer. I silently hope that no one will answer the door, but I soon hear footfalls on the landing. Harry opens the door, a shocked look on his face, but he quickly conceals it.

"Oh hey George," he said awkwardly. "Um... Why don't you come in?" I stepped onto the landing and followed him into the living room consisting of two couches facing each other with a coffee table and a fireplace covering the back wall and sat down on the left side couch with Harry on the right, who stared at me for a few moments, waiting for me to begin talking.

"Well, um...," I start, suddenly nervous. "I just have to say that I'm sorry about... about everything. I didn't really want to kill you. You know? I just wanted to say that I don't blame you for Fred's death. Really I was just blaming myself and..."

"Hey, George, it's okay," Harry answered. He seemed genuinely happy that I gave him the chance to forgive me. He always was an easy person to talk to. For the rest of the night we talked about Fred, our lives now, and any other small talk we could think about.

"So how exactly do you know Sabrina Malfoy," I asked.

"Oh, so you met her," Harry answered, laughing. "I met Sabrina a few years ago at Hogwarts. I think it was my fifth year. I bumped into her, and she dropped everything in her arms. Books went flying through the hallway, quills, parchment everywhere. We spent ten minutes picking everything up. She talked the whole time, while I barely got a word in. I think she said something about how she was really excited to meet me and something about how she was supposed to really hate me, but she didn't, and something about her being a rebel against everything associated with her family. She's really something special, in a weird, quirky way, but you know, she's something special."

I nod, laughing, "Yeah, she's really something special all right. When I met her she just kind of popped out at me and started talking to me. Like I said something special." It was nice to be talking so casually with someone again. I really wish I would have sat down and talked to more people at Hogwarts or even when they came into the shop. It was just one of those things that Fred and I never really did with too many people. We were always too busy playing practical jokes. Well, at least we had some wildly fun times.

* * *

When I get home that evening, I pull out the box of photos from my closet and begin to really look at them. The magical images of my family smiling dance around my mind. I set aside about fifty of the better ones for the scrapbook that Sabrina wants to help me build and carefully place the rest of the photos back in the box for safe keeping.

* * *

The next morning Sabrina knocks on the door with the only thing she can, her foot. As I gape at all the arts and graft stuff she brought, bright colored ribbons, tissue paper, the works, she giggles, "hey, why don't you go get the rest of the stuff from my trunk. I too come back to the house with an armful of art supplies. I finally reach my bedroom, and Sabrina starts spreading out the craft paper. I grab the small parchment book and flip through the blank pages, taking care to make sure there is not one blemish on any of them. Sabrina selects a picture of Fred and I when we were five, holding our toy broomstick we had gotten for Christmas and lightly glues it to the first page and hands me a pen to write the caption. "Christmas 5 years old" is written below the photo. Then we adorn the rest of the page with colored paper and ribbons and Sabrina's favorite, glitter. We spend the rest of the day putting on glitter and decorations, when we finally reach the final part of the project: the cover.

"What do you want the title to be?" Sabrina asks quietly.

"Huh," I answer.

"The title, George. What do you want it to say on the cover?"

"oh...um... How about... Fred and George Weasley: When "we" Became "I".

"I love it," Sabrina says happily as I put the final touch on the I.

The End

**Thank you so much for taking the time to read this little story of mine. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am currently working on a little story to further the plot of how Harry met Sabrina. So wish me luck! Thanks again. **


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